Anarchy Army
by Tantalis
Summary: 3 friends fighting to end tyrany. however their crusade is mared by betrayl and deceat. have they become what they have been fighting against?


ok so this is my first work on fanfiction. it's something i've been working on off and on for about three months, there is a lot more but i figured i should start small. anyway this is a work of fiction (my own in fact) and any references to or commonalities between this or any other work is completely coinsidental. hope you enjoy and please reveiw. i could really use the imput.

**The Anarchy Army**

"**Upon this blade I pledge,**

**My life and loyalty to this sacred brotherhood,**

**And to sacrifice that life if need be,**

**In the completion of our mission…"**

As the deafening sound of crumbling concrete, explosions, and the screams of blessed dying reached my ears. I came to a terrifying revelation. What we had done was not a step on the road to the restoration of natural order, but instead it was a horribly twisted form of terrorism. The very thing we had vowed to destroy.

I turned away from the carnage that I had helped to create and began the decent from my vantage point on the hilltop towards the black SUV parked on the side of the road. The wind rose up stirring my trench coat. causing the black material to flap around my legs. The wind brought the ozone scent of burning bodies and destroyed buildings to my nose. I shivered at the shock of the smell. Remembering a line from the sacred vows I repeated it over and over in my head. Willing the images of what I had seen to vanish. _Whatever is needed to complete our mission…Whatever is needed to complete our mission!_ But, what had our mission become? Could the harmless ramblings of three high school students have been warped so much by time? Had we become what we vowed to destroy?

Two men exited the vehicle dressed much like me in black leather boots, black combat pants, tight-fitting black T-shirts, black trench coats, and sunglasses. Nodding to them I got into the back. Reaching into my coat I checked the Beretta 9mm holstered under my left arm. Leaning back into the cool leather I closed my eyes and attempted once again to banish the images from my mind, but again I failed. _Focus on something else._ I told myself. _FOCUS ON SOMETHING ELSE!_ I tried to remember when everything had gone so wrong. But I couldn't put my finger on it. Then I remembered what my father used to say. "When you search for the truth, start at the beginning." _The beginning._ I thought smiling. The stupid jokes of three high school students, and the blood oath taken by each of them.

* * *

1

I was sitting on the couch in my basement bedroom listening to Static X when Twitch and Ghost showed up. Twitch and Ghost were basically clones of one and other. Both about five feet ten inches with the same slight, wiry frame, the same muscle tone, same hard black eyes. In fact, the only real difference was their hair. Ghost had black, curly hair that tumbled into his eyes. Where Twitch's hair was a wavy, dirty-blonde that fell to his shoulders. Ghost came over and gave me a high-five as he flopped down next to me and pulled out a bag of weed. I passed him my pipe and turned my attention to Twitch who had taken a seat in the sagging, brown leather recliner across the coffee table from us.

"Wasup man?" I said

"Fucking pissed, dude." He replied. And I could tell by his posture that he was really mad. Usually when he sat, he would slump like any normal kid. But right now he was sitting hunched forward, hands clasped in front of him. And his left eye was twitching, a sure sign of irritation. It was what had earned him his nickname.

"Your bowl." Ghost said handing me the packed pipe. I pulled a lighter out of the pocket of my ripped blue jeans and sparked the bowl. Inhaling gently I filed the chamber before removing my finger from the carb and inhaling sharply filling my lungs. I passed the piece to Ghost as I held the smoke in my lungs.

"Why you so pissed?" I asked exhaling a great cloud of blue tinged smoke.

Twitch took a deep breath before answering. "Ya know those new ID cards we got at school?" He replied as he accepted the pipe from Ghost.

"Yea. What about them?" I replied as he handed me the bowl and exhaled the cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. He continued as I took my hit.

"Well I found out that that little barcode at the bottom is our real identification. They're going to be able to scan that and our whole record will pop up on they're little palm pilots. Attendance, detentions, if your on social suspension or not. It's bullshit." He paused to take another hit before passing it and continuing. "And that ain't all I also heard that we're going have to scan the cards to get in and out. That way they know if we're skipping or not. It just isn't right." As he finished I could tell that the weed was doing the trick. He was still pissed, but he was starting to relax. He sat back and let his head rest against the cool leather.

"That sucks ass." I said finishing the bowl and passing it to Ghost to have it packed again.

"Your damn right that sucks ass. What the hell is next tracking collars?" Ghost said before sparking the pipe and passing it to Twitch. "Who the hell do these fuckers think they are anyway?"

"The government, dude, it's all the fucking government." I said exhaling. At that all of us raised our fists into the air and shouted together. "DOWN WITH THE GOVERNMENT!" Then we all fell about laughing. The conversation from that point took a turn towards both domestic and foreign affairs of state. But as the room became more and more smoky the conversation turned towards the hilarious statements made by stoners while they are high. Sense these statements can only be understood if you are high, they are only funny if you are present at they're conception.

I pulled my switch blade from my pocket. Pressing the button, I marveled as the blade flashed out clicking solidly into place. Ghost's head snapped up at the sound and he flinched away. "Damnit, Ronin, warn me before you do that." I nodded and mumbled a response as I studied the blade turning it over and over in my hands. Watching as the light played across the bright mettle. I tested the sharpness with my thumb before suddenly flicking my wrist. Sending the knife tumbling end over end until it smacked solidly in the opposite wall.

Twitch whistled. "You never miss." He said.

"Not true. I was aiming for the stud." We all started laughing again. My interest in swords and knives had earned me the name Ronin. After the ancient Japanese warriors.

Awhile later we heard the door slam upstairs. that meant that my mom and _Steve_ were home. A few months ago my parents had separated and were currently involved in a very messy divorce. It hadn't taken my mother long to find _Steve_. She loved him, I hated him. But he made her happy and so I beared his presence. For the time being at least. The door at the top of the basement stairs and I heard feet coming down. I knew it was my mom because _Steve_ knew he wasn't allowed down here. Ghost tucked the bowl under the couch as my mom decended the stairs. It was an exercise in futility because the whole basement wreaked of mary jane, but my mom didn't care so long as she didn't see us smoking it. One of those 'out of sight, out of mind' kind of things.

"Hey boys. How's it going?" She asked, coming to a stop on the landing.

"Hey Mrs. Henderson. We're doing fine." Twitch answered with that stupid half-grin of his that my mom loved.

She smiled back. Visibly warming in response to Twitch's grin. Then she turned to me. "Sweetie, Steve and I are going down to his beach house for the weekend. Do you want to come? A little time away from the city and some fresh air might do you some good." She said looking hopeful. She was well aware of the friction between _Steve_ and I, and she was always looking for ways to put us together hoping to break the ice.

I visibly stiffened at the suggestion. Even though I fought the impulse. I felt really guilty at my reaction as I saw her face shift slightly as she realized what my answer would be. "Sorry mom I can't. I already made plans with the guys." I said. Noticing the hole I was in Twitch and Ghost both nodded confirming my story. Who could ask for better friends?

My mom's face fell but she quickly recovered. "Okay, well tell you what I'll leave you thirty dollars for pizza or whatever. Okay?"

"Okay mom. Have a good time. I love you." I said thinking_. If you really loved her you would make nice with the prick._

She smiled. "I love you too, sweetie. I'll see you Monday after work then. Have fun. And please stay out of trouble."

"We will." The three of us answered at the same time. She smiled again and then turned and went up the stairs. About an hour later we heard the door slam and _Steve's_ car pull out. Instinctively Ghost and Twitch knew not to talk about _Steve_ so we let the matter slide and soon the conversation drifted back to normal.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" Ghost asked.

"Shit, man, I don't know." I said shrugging. "Maybe go to the club."

Ghost nodded in time to the music. "We could do that. But we ain't gonna have much fun without some girls."

"Screw the girls." Twitch said standing and throwing on his camo-jacket. "We'll find some when we get there. Comeon let's go."

"Okay, are we driving or skating?" I asked. It was a stupid question but hey.

"Skating." They said at the same time. We all loved the way skating made us feel. You can always tell a skater from a poser. Just by the way they describe skateboarding. What tricks a person can do or how good they are, never mattered. At least not to me. To me it was the persons attitude that mattered. To a skater the only thing that matters is skating. Even when they are doing something else they will be thinking about skateboarding. I personally had lost two girlfriends because to me skating was more important than they were. It sounds cold but anyone who has felt the euphoric feeling of cruising down the street or the heady rush of landing a trick you have been working on for months will understand. Posers on the other hand don't share these feelings. Don't get me wrong they will be excited at landing a new trick or hanging out with there friends. But to them it isn't the only thing that matters. To them it's the image that matters 'look at me I'm a badass, rebel with a skateboard'. When I'm on a board no matter what happens while I am on that board I am untouchable. Nothing bothers me. My problems completely melt away. And need I mention the adrenaline rush from doing something completely insane. Best damn drug in the world.

The club we were heading to was called The Hole and technically it didn't exist. It was located in the basement of this gothic tattoo parlor in a really run down part of town. And it was the greatest place in the world. To get in you first had to go into the parlor. To the back there was a door marked 'EMPLOIES ONLY'. Through that door was a staircase leading down with a heavy steal door at the end. You bang on that door three times and the slit in the door would open. Now The Hole was very exclusive about it's clientel. Only members or those accompanied by members were allowed in. members were identified by a black gothic H tattoo on there right wrists. These tattoos were then covered by some form of arm band. In my case a black leather rocker watch.

As we entered, showing our tattoos to the bouncer at the door, the familiar heavy mettle music and dim red lighting greeted us like an old friend. There was a stage/DJ stand for the band in the corner directly across from the door. In the opposite corner was the bar and next to that the door to the VIP room. Scattered around the bar was a collection of booths and tables. While the rest of the space was empty, given over to dancing, moshing, and the occasional fight. Though it was still early, it only being 10:21 p.m., the opening band was already half-way through they're set and people were crushed together by the press of bodies.

We made our way over to the bar to order up some drinks. When we got there I noticed, with no small amount of pleasure, that the bartender was this wicked sexy goth chick named Rachel. As she slid the drinks across she smiled and winked at me. I smiled back before following the guys to our usual booth in the far corner just off the dance floor. As we sat I took the time to look around the room at the gathering of people. Most of the members were goths or at least rockers. And most of them claimed to enjoy the forbidden taste of blood. I was generally cautious of those types, but the chicks were kinky as hell. Which didn't bother me at all because once you got them alone they usually calmed down and grew more normal.


End file.
